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Allen's disdain for this "home" was obvious. Yet, for some reason, he instinctively avoided interacting with the one person who held genuine goodwill toward him—his "mother." That was why he had stepped aside to let her pass.
Did he dislike his birth mother? Or was it Philip and Sauros' attitudes that made him despise the entire Boreas family?
These thoughts flooded Rudeus' mind—something the old him would never have noticed. But no matter how much he speculated, he couldn't guess Allen's true feelings. After all, Allen was a reincarnator like him.
Had Rudeus realized this, he might have imagined Hilda as Zenith—a mother he'd never met, suddenly appearing before him with tears in her eyes. He might have felt the same "confusion" toward her kindness.
He would have recognized her goodwill but struggled to accept it as "motherly love."
Just like Allen now.
He could tell Hilda was the only adult in the Boreas family who harbored pure kindness toward him.
But Allen couldn't feel a mother's love.
Not in this life.
Not in his past one, either.
He didn't know how to respond to this unfamiliar warmth from a stranger.
"Allen is still only eleven. He's so mature that I keep forgetting his age. Is his will really as unshakable as I thought? Maybe... it's my turn to help him?"
As these fragmented thoughts crossed Rudeus' mind, he watched Allen turn and follow Eris.
Then—
A voice called out from behind.
"You all..."
Rudeus whirled around.
Hilda stood there, her expression tinged with something resembling apology. Her gaze swept over the group, but Rudeus noticed the way it lingered—just for a fraction of a second—on Allen's face.
"I... apologize. My mind was elsewhere earlier. It was unbecoming of me as your host, especially when my dear husband isn't here to welcome you properly."
"Please join me for lunch. There's plenty of food, and it's only right that I entertain you. My father won't be dining with us today, so there's no need to stand on ceremony."
Eris cheered loudly.
But beneath the noise, Rudeus heard it—
A sigh.
Fleeting, barely audible.
Yet to him, it felt...
Endlessly long.
Eris was ecstatic. Hilda's invitation was unprecedented—no outsider had ever been allowed at the family's dining table. She immediately abandoned the library tour in favor of leading everyone to lunch.
The Boreas family's private dining hall was opulent. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, casting flickering candlelight over a table so long it could comfortably seat a whole litter of Eris clones. The tablecloth was fine silk, and the dishes were gleaming silver, reflecting sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The spread was lavish—rare game birds and fish instead of common pork, bread softer and sweeter than anything in Buena Village, freshly baked and sliced for easy serving. A rich vegetable broth steamed in small bowls at each seat, accompanied by wine and other exotic drinks.
The most striking difference from Buena, however, was the array of spices and seasonings—each from distant lands, a subtle display of noble wealth and influence.
Allen and Rudeus sat stiffly at the table.
Beside them, Sylphie was busy wiping Ghyslaine's drool.
A beast-girl maid stood behind each guest.
Across from them, Hilda stirred her soup with elegant precision, while Eris happily let her own maid tear bread for her.
"Dig in! What are you waiting for?!" Eris urged.
No one moved.
Hilda smiled indulgently. "Please, enjoy yourselves. There's no need for formality."
Only then did Allen pick up his spoon and begin stirring his soup. Rudeus, meanwhile, eyed Allen's calm movements before sampling the meats—far more curious about the noble cuisine than proper manners.
Ghyslaine was already devouring everything in reach.
Hilda observed their reactions with a faint smile. "Eris can be... impulsive. I hope you'll be patient with her. You're closer to her age than her previous tutors, so I imagine you'll get along better."
Her gaze settled on Allen.
She had already realized why he felt so familiar.
—He reminded her of her eldest son in the royal capital.
And yet, despite his youth, he clearly led this group. Even Eris, notoriously difficult, had warmed to him overnight...
She was curious.
And inexplicably fond.
Allen kept his eyes on his spoon as he replied, "Eris is a bright girl. She's just straightforward. I'm sure she'll grow into a fine noblewoman."
Eris, mouth full of bread, nodded vigorously—then choked.
Hilda patted her back. "I'll hold you to that. You seem far more mature than your companions. I heard you're an adventurer?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Eleven."
Hilda's hand stilled. She blinked. "...You look fifteen. And the others?"
"They're both seven."
"I see."
Silence fell, broken only by the clink of silverware and the sounds of Eris and Ghyslaine eating.
When Allen didn't offer names, Hilda prompted gently, "Might I ask your names? And what subjects you'll be teaching Eris?"
Rudeus' grip on his bread tightened. Sylphie, who hadn't touched her food, glanced at Allen.
Sunlight glinted in Allen's steel-gray eyes as he finally met Hilda's gaze.
"The brown-haired boy holding bread is Rudeus Greyrat, eldest son of the knight of Buena Village. He specializes in silent-cast attack magic, trained under a Water King-class magician. He'll teach Eris offensive spells and arithmetic."
Eris, still chewing, waved impatiently at Sylphie.
"The long-eared girl is Sylphiette. She excels in silent-cast healing magic, also trained under a Water King. She'll handle Eris' restorative magic lessons."
Sylphie's ears twitched. Her fingers curled around her spoon.
Allen continued, "My name is Allen. I'll be instructing Eris in the Water God style of swordsmanship."
Clink.
The spoon slipped from Sylphie's hand, sinking into her soup.
Hilda was still smiling.
But her voice was distant.
"...How amusing. Fate truly is... whimsical."
"My son's name is also Allen."
"What a coincidence, madam."
"...Yes. A coincidence."
The table fell silent. Eris stopped chewing, glancing between her mother and Allen. She couldn't grasp the tension but sensed something had shifted.
Sylphie and Rudeus exchanged a look before lowering their eyes.
Sylphie mimicked Allen and Hilda, stirring her soup with mechanical precision.
In the reddish-brown reflection of the broth—
Allen's fingers gripped the spoon.
Tighter than usual.
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